Kill Ivan vol 1
by Prince of Anything
Summary: Revenge is a dish best served cold. A parody of the movie Kill Bill. RusAm
1. 2

**A/N: This absolutely had to be done. I'm sorry. I don't even really like this pairing, I just really had to do it. XD**

**Parody of: Kill Bill vol. 1-2**

**Pairings: RusAme, PrusAme, RusBela**

**Warnings: violence, gore, language, mPreg, general badassery, Russia being a cold S.O.B., a kind of OOC Finland, America in a yellow jumpsuit with a katana, one OC, and other things. MANY other things.**

**Note: If you haven't seen this movie, you need to. It's awesome, and plus you'll be prone to whine and complain about certain things if you don't get why I put them in. Lol. But the Nancy Sinatra lyrics are from memory.**

"_You know, Alfred...I would like to believe you are aware enough, even now, to know that there is nothing sadistic in my actions. Maybe towards the others. But no. No,_ _Мой дорогой Alfred. At this moment…This is me...at my most masochistic."_

"_Ivan… It's __**your baby-**__"_

_I was five and he was six_

_We rode on horses made of sticks_

_He wore black and I wore white_

_He would always win the fight_

_Bang bang_

_He shot me down_

_Bang bang _

_I hit the ground_

_Bang bang_

_That awful sound_

_Bang bang _

_My baby shot me down…_

_-_Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)

He parked the car on the road curb in front of the green house. It was a nice neighborhood—the stereotypical suburban utopia, blissfully unprepared for what was about to take place. He looked around. _Strange_… There were children's toys scattered all around the front lawn.

Granted, that wasn't going to stop him. If anything, it only added fuel to the fire. He rang the doorbell.

A small platinum blond answered. "Oh, Emil, you're here earl-" His smile faded, shocked.

The visitor took no time in sending a fist aimed directly at the blond's face, missing by only a few millimeters. The blond caught his arm, throwing him into a picture frame. Seconds later the visitor was up, and thus they became locked in an epic battle to the death.

It went on for what seemed to be hours, something that was only to be expected of _those two. _They completely wrecked the house, and were now using knives from the kitchen in a makeshift swordfight. They stood in a deadlock, catching their breath with weapons pointed at each other when a yellow schoolbus stopped at the driveway.

The blond stared at him, begging with his eyes to wait.

The door opened, and the two quickly turned to hide their knives behind their backs. A little blond boy carrying a backpack stood in the hallway, staring at the adults in confusion. "Mommy, I'm home."

The blond gave a tense smile, still trying to conceal the weapon from his son. "Hi, Peter. How was school?"

The little boy's thick eyebrows rose at the carnage from the earlier fight, and he gasped. "Mommy, what happened to you and the living room?"

His mother paused briefly, trying to conjure a good excuse, before finally replying with, "The dog got in here and acted a fool." He smiled. "That's what happened, Peter."

"Hanatamago did all _this_?" Peter asked incredulously. He took a step closer.

"Peter. You can't come in here," the blond scolded. "There's broken glass. You might get cut." He glared at the visitor, fawning a warm smile for the sake of the child. "This is an old friend of Mommy's who I haven't seen in a _long time._"

"Hi." The visitor tried faking a smile as well. "I'm Alfred. What's your name?"

"His name is Peter," the blond said coldly.

"Peter… That's a nice name. How old are you?"

The boy was silent, unsure whether to answer. Somehow, he had a sense that this stranger was very, very dangerous. He looked at his mother, as if to ask permission to answer.

"Peter," his mother snapped. "Alfred asked you a question."

"I'm… I'm twelve."

"Twelve years old, eh?" asked Alfred. "I had a little boy once. He would be about four now."

The blond gave a slight, forced smile. "Peter… Mommy's friend and I have some _grownup business _to talk about. So go in your room and wait there until I come get you. Okay?" No answer. "Okay?" Still no answer. "Peter!" the mother barked. "In your room. Now."

The little boy squeaked and fled to his room. The blond smiled warmly at Alfred. "So. Want some coffee?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

This homemaker's name is Tino Oxenstierna. His husband is Dr. Berwald Oxenstierna. But years ago, when they were acquainted, his name was Tino Väinämöinen. His codename was Copperhead, Alfred's, Black Mamba.

"Hey… Have a towel or something?"

"Here."  
>"Thanks." Alfred dabbed at one of his newly acquired cuts.<p>

Tino sighed. "I suppose it's too late for an apology."

"You _supposed _right."

"Look," said Tino. "I need to know if you're going to start any more crap around my son."

Alfred sighed. "Relax, okay? I'm not gonna kill you in front of your kid."

"That's being more rational than Ivan led me to think you were capable of," commented Tino.

"It's mercy, compassion, and forgiveness I lack. Not rationality."

"Look, I know I screwed you over," sighed Tino. "I screwed you over badly, and I swear to God, I wish I hadn't. But I did. You have every right to want to get even."

Alfred shook his head. "No, no no… No, to get _even… _Even _Steven… _I would have to kill _you…" _He paused. "Then go down the hall to Peter's room, and kill _him… _Then I would have to wait for your husband, the good doctor Oxenstierna to come home, and kill _him._" He nodded. "Yeah, _that, _Tino, would be even. That'd be about _square."_

"Look, Alfred. If I could change what happened, I would. But I can't. All I can do now is assure you that I am _not _the same person I was back then."

"Oh, great," said Alfred, rolling his eyes. "I don't care."

Tino ignored him, continuing. "Be that as it may, I don't deserve your mercy or forgiveness. But I beg you, for the sake of my son-"

"You can stop right there, bitch," Alfred interrupted coldly. "Just because I don't feel like killing you in front of your son doesn't mean that parading him around in front of me will inspire sympathy. You and I have unfinished business. And _not a goddamned thing _you've done in the subsequent _four years _including getting knocked up will change that."

Tino shrugged, defeated. "So, when do we do this?"

"It all depends," Alfred replied, pushing up his glasses. "When do you wanna die? Tomorrow? Day after tomorrow?"

"How about tonight?"

"_Awesome. _Where?"

"There's a baseball diamond on the other side of town," replied Tino calmly. "We won't be bothered there. We meet at around two in the morning, dressed all in black, and we have a knife fight. Now…" He opened a cabinet. "I have to make _Peter _some _cereal."_

Alfred leaned against a wall, watching the Nordic pour cereal into a small bowl.

"You know, Alfred…" Tino began. "Ivan always said you were one of the best with a two-edged weapon."

"Fuck you bitch," he retorted. "I know he didn't qualify that shit."

"Kiss my ass, Black Mamba." Tino snorted. "_Black Mamba… I _should have fucking been _Black Mamba…"_

"Weapon of choice? If you wanna stick with your butcher knife, I understand." Alfred smirked.

Tino rolled his eyes. "Very funny, Alfred..." He reached for the box of cereal. "Very funny!" Without warning, he fired a gun hidden inside the cereal box.

The problem with using a concealed firearm is that it is rarely ever accurate. The bullet barely missed Alfred, who threw a dagger into Tino's heart before he could fire again. The Fin sunk to the floor, dead.

At that moment, Alfred noticed the shocked boy behind him and sighed. "…It… wasn't my intention to this in front of you. For that…" he pulled the dagger out and began wiping it off on a towel, "…I'm sorry. But I can promise you one thing." He replaced into a sheath hidden inside his jacket. "Your mom had it coming."

The boy said nothing, still frozen in shock.

"Tell you what. When you grow up, if you still feel _raw _about it…" He patted the boy on the head. "I'll be waiting." With that, he walked away, never to return to that house.

For those regarded as warriors, when engaged in combat, the vanquishing of your enemy can be one's only concern. Suppress all human emotion of compassion, kill whoever stands in your way, even if it is Lord God, or Buddha himself. (1)

Satisfied, Alfred crossed out the name "Tino Vainamoinen" on his hit list, under the already crossed out "Kiku Honda".

**A/N: Like it? I really hope I got all the stuff right… This was so weird! Making cute little Finland a jerk and then killing him off! XD**

**(1) I'm not a Buddhist, and I don't like this quote, I just had to put it in to make the scene 100% accurate…. Lolz**


	2. The Blood Spattered Bride

**A/N: Retype, lol. I left this on my computer…**

**Just a quick note, I HAD to make France be the sheriff XD After that propaganda 007 episode stuff with the sunglasses XDDD**

**And I frelling know that Sadiq doesn't rhyme with… that. To be totally honest, I wasn't planning on making anybody be Buck, cos I hate him, and I love everyone on Hetalia cos they're so cute. But I just had to make sacrifices… And Turkey has a HISTORY… of being a jerk to cute peoples. :b**

_Well  
>Ah huh-uh-uh-huh, oooow!<em>

_Yeah!_

_Well I'm'a just'a single fella  
>With a lot on my mind<br>And I'm'a lookin' for me a woman  
>But she's mighty hard ta'find<em>

_Oh'I asked my country cousin  
>Check the hottest spots in town<br>Oh that little-bitty woman  
>Well she just ain't around<em>

_-"That Certain Female" Charlie Feathers_

Sheriff Bonnefoy rearranged the sunglass collection on his dashboard one last time before stepping out into the sunlight in front of the Two Pine chapel, the setting of a recent tragedy.

"Well, _mon fils._ Give me all the gory details."

"It's a goddamned massacre, dad," replied his son, Matthew. "They wiped out the entire wedding party, execution style."

"Give me a figure."

"Nine dead bodies. And we're talking the whole shebang. Bride, groom, reverend, reverend's wife. Even that Austrian guy who plays the organ."

"It would seem that someone objected to their union and could not hold their peace." The sheriff followed his son through the doors to the crime scene. "_Sacre dieu.."_

Matthew sighed. "What'd I tell you, dad? It looks like a goddamned Nicaraguan death squad."

"Don't use that word! This is a house of worship!"

"Sorry…"

Francis sucked his teeth. "Yes… I would estimate that this is the word of organized crime. Perhaps a Mexican mafia hit squad, four or five men."

"How can you tell just by looking?"

"This is a professional job, not the work of an amateur." He pointed around. "You can tell by the carnage. A crazy rampage it may be, but all of the colors are kept inside the lines, _non_?"

Matthew grimaced. "If you were an idiot, you could almost admire it."

"Who is the bride?" Francis asked.

"No clue," replied Matthew. "The name on the wedding certificate was a fake. We've all just been calling him 'The Bride'. You can tell he was pregnant."

Francis kneeled down to look at 'The Bride', sighing. "He must have been a mad dog to shoot a doll like this in the head." He removed his green-tinted sunglasses to get a better look. "Hay colored hair… Big eyes… He is like a blood-spattered angel." He was then at a close enough distance from the victim's face to get spat in the eye. "… _Mon fils_?"

"Yeah?"

Francis smirked. "This tall drink of cocksucker is not dead."

The lovely blonde woman strode into the hospital whistling an eerie orchestral piece. She wore a tan trench coat and held in her hand a big red umbrella. A sharp turn led to an open closet, which the woman quickly stepped into, locking the door behind her. From there, she changed into a sexy white nurse uniform, filled a syringe with a mysterious red liquid, and was out into the hallway to do her job.

This woman was Natalya Arlovskaya, aka the Californian Mountain Snake. At the moment, she was sporting a shit-eating grin, because she was very happy to me doing this. More than happy, _ecstatic._

She made her way to the bedside of the comatose young American, syringe ready. "I may never have liked you," she whispered sweetly in her accented voice. "Point in fact, I _hated _you. But that does not mean that I do not respect you." She smiled. "Dying in your sleep… This is a luxury which our kind is rarely afforded. My gift to you." She held the syringe out, ready…

Her phone rang. Natalya cursed in Russian before answering it. "Hello, brother…"

"_What is his condition?" _asked a voice on the other side.

"Comatose."

"_Where is he?"_

"I am standing over him right now."

The man on the other side smiled. _"Good girl… Syestra, you will abort the mission."_

"WHAT?" Natalya squeaked.

"_We owe him better than that."_

"You do not owe him SHIT!"

"_Keep your voice down. You are in a hospital, da?"_

Natalya lowered her voice to a whisper. "You do not owe him SHIT."

"_May I say one thing?" _

Natalya sighed. "Da."

"_You beat the hell out of this man, but you did not kill him. And I put a bullet in his head, yet his heart continued to beat. You saw this with your own beautiful blue eyes," _said the man's voice. "_Did you not? We have done many things to this man, and if he ever wakes up, we will do a lot more. But the one thing that we will not do," _he said, "_is sneak into his room like a filthy rat and kill him in his sleep. The reason that we do not do this is because it would __**lower **__us. __**Da**__?"_

Natalya fidgeted. "I… guess so."

"_Do you really have to guess, Natalya?"_

Natalya shook her head. "_Nyet… _No, I do not, brother. I know."

The man smiled. "_Come home, dear sister."_

"Affirmative." She sighed and hung up. "You thought that was pretty fucking funny, did you not?" Natalya lowered herself to the unconscious young man's ear. "Word of advice, shithead. _Do. Not. Ever. Wake up."_

With that, she turned and left.

"_Ivan… It's __**your baby-"**_

He was awakened by the mere buzzing of a mosquito, only to cry out in shock and despair, instantly realizing what he'd lost.

_My baby…_

_Four years. Four FUCKING years._

There was the sound of footsteps echoing through the hospital walls outside. He decided to play possum, not wanting to be asked questions.

"Price is $50 a fuck, my friend. You getting your freak on, or what?"

"Oh, yeeah, boy."

"Now here's the rules. Rule number one: No punching 'im. Nurse comes in tomorrow and he got a shiner or less teeth, jig's up. So no knuckle sandwiches under no circumstances. And by the way, this one's a spitter. lt's a motor reflex thing. But spit or no, no punching. We absolutely clear on rule number one?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Now, rule number two: No monkey bites, no hickeys. In fact, no leaving no marks of no kind. After that, it's all good, buddy. Keep the noise down. Try not to make a mess. I'll be back in five."

"Yeah."

The door closed again. He felt the bed creak.

"Oh, goddamn, you are the best piece of ass I've had today…"

Chapped lips met his in a rough kiss… Okay, that was _it_! He was _not _about to take this perv's crap a second longer.

"Yo, stud! Time's up!" The man re-entered the room. "I'm comin' in, ready or-"

He instantly broke off in shock upon seeing his friend dead in a pool of his own blood. So in shock was he that he never saw the person on the floor behind him, waiting to take out his Achilles tendon with the dead man's pocketknife…

"WHERE IS IVAN?" screamed the blond, slamming the man's head in the door.

"I don't know! Stop hitting me please-"

Slam. "WHERE IS IVAN?"

"I don't know who that is!"

Slam. "BULLSHIT!"

"_Well… Ain't you just the slice of cutie pie they all said you were. A John Doe, huh? We don't know shit about you. Well, as for me, I'm from Ankara, Turkey. My name is Sadiq, and I'm here to fuck."_

Alfred's lip twitched into an angry smile. "You're Sadiq. Right? And you're here to _fuck." _He pulled the man up by collar, glaring at him. "RIGHT?"

He stripped the man to his underwear, planning to use the uniform as a disguise. Digging around in the pockets, he found just what he was looking for: car keys. With a ridiculous metal keychain that had pink letters on it."

" 'Pussy Wagon'?" Alfred read, trying to decide whether that was sick, kind of funny, or just really sad. In the end, he made up his mind to get in one last good door slam before he left. "You fucker."

It was nighttime, so his escape by wheelchair to the underground parking garage went relatively unnoticed. He stopped in front of a ridiculous yellow truck with those same ridiculous pink letters.

"Oh God… Please… Just… No…"

But sure enough, it was. At an earlier time, Alfred probably would have laughed.

**A/N: There you have it! As time goes on, and there are flashbacks, Al will begin to act more in-character. Because to act in-character after all this crap that's happened to him… Not possible. For anyone. XD**

**America: Ummmm… Yeah, quick question.**

**Me: Yeees?**

**America: Uh-huh… Do you like, hate me or something? D:**

**Me: No! You're just Beatrix. Be happy that you have a decent role in the story and shut up. DX**

**Russia: Yay! You've finally decided to become one with mother Rus-**

**America: *madface***

**Russia: … Nyoro~n! *skips away singing***

**Me: O…kay. Well just be happy that I dropped in from my RvB obsession long enough to write this.**

**America: To write a crossover of your OTHER obsession and your favorite movie! :D**

**Me: And now I don't regret making your life a total hell in this story. Bl**

**America: …. D,:**

**Me: Do you have any MORE comments, Mr. Peanut Gallery?**

**America: Just the one.**

**Me: Go ahead.**

**America: …. Huhu pussy wagon XD**

**Me: ….Pfft…**


	3. Origin of Kiku

**A/N: Now~ To torture some MORE Hetalians~**

**America: *hopeful* I'm not the only one now? :D**

**Me: … No, yours is still pretty much the suckiest life.**

**America: D,:**

**And there ARE NO MORE ASIANS. I RAN OUT OF ONES WHO FIT SO MATSUMOTO IS MATSUMOTO. ;A;**

**Turkey: ? DDDDX**

_You got a minute to pray and a second to die  
>You can see the image of the devil reflectin' inside her eye<br>But since she was a little girl, yo, she never would cry  
>She seen so much tragedy, let me explain to you why<br>She grew up on the military base, where she had to face  
>The brutality of her mother and her father being erased<br>The blood drops from her tear drops, on her face you see the smear spots  
>She silently watched, as the shogun sliced through her dear pops<br>Through his thick skull, now she's vicious like a pitbull  
>And when it comes to hatred, and revenge she got a shit full<em>

_Yo... revenge is that fire that burns inside your soul_

_-"Ode to Oren Ishii" RZA_

"Wiggle your big toe." No good. "Wiggle your big toe." No good. "Wiggle. Your. Big. Toe."

He saw the faces of the ones who did this to him, and the one responsible. All members of Ivan's brainchild, the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad.

When fortune smiles on something as ugly as revenge, it seems a better sign than any that not only does God exist, but that you're doing his will.

At the time when he knew the least about his enemies, the first on Alfred's kill list, Kiku Honda, was the easiest to find. But when one manages to become the king of the Japanese underworld, one does not keep it a secret, does one?

Kiku Honda was born at an Air Force base. The half-Japanese, half Chinese-American brat made his first acquaintance with death at the age of nine. It was at that age he witnessed the deaths of his parents at the hands of ruthless yakuza crime leader Boss Matsumoto. In fact… His mother was killed on the bed he was hiding under. The bed dripped blood onto the shaking boy beneath. He wanted to cry, to scream for help, but he had to stay silent if he wanted to live.

One of Matsumoto's men set the room on fire as he left. It took most of Kiku's will just to pick himself up and escape the fire.

The orange of the flames was reflected in his eyes. He swore revenge.

Luckily for him, Matsumoto was a pedophile. At eleven, he got his revenge.

"_Look at me, Matsumoto. Take a good look at my face. At my eyes. At my mouth. My nose. My chin. Do I look familiar? Do I look like someone you murdered?"_

The old man barely had time to gasp before he plunged the sword into his heart.

By twenty he was one of the top assassins in the world.

By twenty-five he had done his part in killing nine innocent people, including Alfred's unborn son, in a small wedding chapel in El Paso, Texas.

But that day, four years ago, he made one big mistake. He should have killed ten.

But before satisfaction could be Alfred's, first things first…

"Wiggle your big toe." Success. He smirked. "Okay. Hard part's over. Now let's get those other piggies wiggling."

When he could move again, he drove to the nearest airport.

"Welcome to Air O. How may I help you?"

He smiled. "Ookinawa, Japan. One way."

**A/N: And done! It's sad making friends hate each other…**

**America: HA! YOUR LIFE SUCKS TOO! *point and laugh***

**Japan: *cry***


	4. The Man from Ookinawa

**A/N: I know he's not Japanese I know he's not Japanese I KNOW! I just ran out of Asians! DX **

**Bold/italic is Japanese. Italics are flashbacks. Forgot to mention, sorries!**

**Hong Kong= Leon Wang**

**Thailand= Nattapong Kongmalai**

**America: Damn that's a long name… Can I even pronounce that? O.o**

**Me: I don't care~ I might as well make your life even harder just by adding this~**

**America: … DDDD:**

He found the bar he was looking for and walked in. "Hi."

"Welcome!" said the man at the bar.

"_Domo."_

The man blinked. "You English?"

"Ah… almost," he said. "I'm American."[1]

"American!" cried the man. "Welcome, welcome! My English very good." He smiled. "You said 'domo'. You speak Japanese?"

Alfred shook his head. "No, no, just a few words I learned since yesterday." He pointed at the bar. "Can I sit here?"

"Sure, sure, sit," said the man. "What other words you know? ...Just a minute." He called to someone in the back in another language. **"**_**Leon!**__**Get your lazy ass out here! We have a customer!**__"_

"_**I'm watching my soap opera!**__"_

"_**Screw that! Get out here! Lazy bastard…**__"_

Out came a grumpy teenager muttering under his breath.

"Uh… Excuse me…"

"Oh, sorry," said the man at the bar. "What other words you learn?"

"Hm… Let's see. _Arigatou."_

"Good!" the man praised.

"I already said 'domo'… Uh… _Konnichi wa_?"

"Perfect! Good good… Pronunciation very good."

Alfred laughed. "Okay, now you're just making fun of me!"

"Noooo… This serious business." The man grinned. "You say 'arigatou' like we say 'arigatou'."

"Well thank you. I mean… Arigatou!"

"You should learn Japanese. Very easy."

"No kidding?" Alfred asked. "I heard it was really hard."

"But you have Japanese tongue."

"_**Whatdya want?"**_asked the teenager.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"Drink," the man at the bar explained.

"Oh, a bottle of warm sake."

"Haha! Very good!" the man turned to the boy. "_**Go get some warm sake!"**_

"_**Sake? In the afternoon?**__"_

"_**Morning, day, night, who cares? Just get the damned sake!"**_

"_**Why do I always have to fetch the sake?"**_the teenager whined. _**"It's always you making the fish, and me getting the sake! If this were the military, I'd be a general by now!"**_

"_**Oh, a general?"**_The man snorted. _**"If you were general, then I would be emperor! Go get the sake!"**_

The boy stormed off, muttering angrily to himself.

"Sorry," the man apologized, smiling. "First time in Japan?" Alfred nodded. "What brings you to Ookinawa?"

"Came to see a man," he replied.

"You have friend live in Ookinawa?"

"Not quite."

"Not friend?"

Alfred shrugged. "I never met him."

"Never?" The man paused. "Who is he, may I ask?"

"Nattapong Kongmalai."

The man got a surprised look on his face. His reply was in Japanese. _**"Why… do you need Nattapong Kong malai?"**_

"_**I need Japanese steel."**_

"_**Why do you need Japanese steel?"**_

"_**I have… vermin to kill."**_

"…_**You must have pretty big rats**__."_

Alfred's eyes narrowed. "Huge."

Kongmalai led Alfred to a workshop in the attic above the bar. There was every type and size of samurai sword imaginable. "Try the second one down."

Alfred picked the sword up and began admiring the metal of its blade.

Kongmalai laughed. "Funny… You like samurai swords. I like baseball." Without warning, he picked up a baseball and threw it at Alfred, only to have it be sliced in half by the sword in midair. "I wanted to show you these. But, as you already know so much, you must also know that I no longer make instruments of death. What I have here I keep for sentimental and aesthetic value. While I am very proud of my work, I am still retired."

Alfred shrugged. "Okay, then gimme one of these."

"These are not for sale."

"I didn't say sell me, I said _give _me."

Kongmalai frowned. "Why should I help you?"

"Because my _vermin _is a former student of yours," Alfred explained. "And considering the student, I'd say you gotta pretty big obligation."

The swordmaker's eyes grew wide. He walked over to the window and wrote 'Ivan' on the condensation in the window, as if every stroke was physically painful. It was at that moment that he decided to help this vengeful young American. "You can sleep here. It take me one month to make the sword." Kongmalai looked at Alfred with a warning gaze. "And I suggest you spend that time doing what I swore an oath to God never to do again." 

..

"_**I have created, 'something that kills people'. And in that purpose, I was a success. I've done this because philosophically, I am sympathetic to your aim. I can tell you with no ego, this is my finest sword. If on your journey, you should encounter God...God will be cut. Blond-haired warrior. Go."**_

"…_Domo."_

It was one year after the massacre at El Paso, Texas that Ivan backed his Japanese prodigy both financially and philosophically in his Shakespearean power struggle with the other yakuza clans over who would rule vice in Tokyo. When the final sword was sheathed, it was Kiku Honda and his powerful posse, the Crazy 88's, who would be the victor.

The pretty boy on Kiku's right who was dressed like a villain on Star Trek was his lawyer, best friend, and second lieutenant, the Italian Feliciano Vargas. Another former protégée of Ivan's.

The blond in the school uniform was Arthur Kirkland. He may be young [2], but what he lacks in age, he makes up for in madness. [3]

_Arthur was at a bar with a bottle of liquor in his hand, roaring drunk. Some random idiot was trying to hit on him._

"_So, do you like Ferraris?"_

"_Ferrari…" he scoffed. "Italian trash." Arthur paused. "Do you want to screw me?"_

_The man got a strange look on his face._

"_Don't laugh. Do you want to screw me, yes or no?"_

_The man chuckled. "Well, yeah."_

_Without warning, Arthur plunged a katana into the man. "How about now, big boy? Still want to penetrate me? Or is it I… who penetrated YOU?"_

See?

The tan guy in the Kato mask and black suit was Heracles Karpusi, the general of Kiku's army, the Crazy 88's.

How could a Japanese/Chinese/American half breed become the boss of all bosses in Tokyo, Japan?

The subject of Kiku's nationality only came up once. The night he gained control of the Head Counsel.

The man who seemed bound and determined to break the mood was Boss Im. He cried out suddenly in anger.

"_**Im! Why do you cry out? This is a time for celebration!"**_

"_**Celebration of what?"**_ he spat. "_**The perversion of our illustrious counsel?"**_

"_**You disrespect our brother! Be silent!"**_

Kiku, however remained calm. "_**Gentlemen. It would appear that Yongsoo-san has something on his mind. By all means, allow him to express it."**_

Boss Im was silent for a few moments, then spoke up again. _**"I speak of the perversion done to this counsel, which I love more than my own children, by appointing some Chinese Jap-American bitch its leader!"**_

The counsel was silent for a few agonizing moments, and already Boss Im was regretting his outburst.

"Just so that you understand how serious I am," Kiku explained, "I will say this in English." Without another word, he got up, removed his sword, and in one fell swoop, took off Im's head. "As your leader, I encourage you all from time to time and always in a respectful manner to question my logic. If you are unconvinced of a particular plan of action which I have decided is the wisest, _tell me so_. But allow me to convince you, and I promise you right here and now that no subject will ever be taboo. Except, of course, for the subject that was just brought under discussion."

Kiku looked around at the frightened faces of the counsel members. "The price you pay for bringing up either my Chinese or American heritage is… I collect your fucking head. JUST like this fucker here. Now if any of you sons of bitches have anything else to say, now's the fucking time." A long silence. "I didn't think so."

**A/N: Japan are scary ;A;**

**And yay Thailand! But with significantly less 'Ana~'. D:**

**[1] Writing this I thought… "OH THE IRONY XD"**

**[2] Compared to the other 88's. Japan is 25, Greece is… older than Iggy.**

**[3] This is SPARTAAAAAAgHHHHH! …NothisisPatrick.**


End file.
